As hard as it sounds
when I push down
on the purple flesh
that presses up
I cannot stop
from wincing
just a bit,
of pursing my lips
in pain.

Though I try
to resist
the urge
to push it
I keep playing
with the parts
that hurt the most.

Just like how
I used to
come running
to you
when you needed
a shoulder
to collapse on.

When the ones
you loved were gone,
I would skip
happily, along
just long enough
for you to move on
to the next abusive
**** who would
use ya.

You hurt me,
but I kept
coming back gratefully
ready to be wounded again
and again
in the zone of the friend
cause I must of enjoyed
the hurting.